


Baby

by mellowmorgan



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowmorgan/pseuds/mellowmorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-reincarnation fic. Merlin and Arthur spend a rainy Sunday together. A little smut, a sprinkling of fluff, and lots of feels.</p>
<p>  <i>He loved the rain on days like this, when he could just lie in bed all day without any disturbance. He had liked it before Arthur’s return, even though there was also something very lonesome and melancholy about it. But now that he had Arthur, doing nothing but nap and watch old films and listen to the rain’s soporific tune was even sweeter.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  


Merlin felt the cold chill of winter’s breath nipping at the skin on his back when he awoke one Sunday morning. He kept his eyes tightly shut to keep out the light, and lie there shivering defiantly before finally conceding and cracking open an eye, weary and tender to the brightness that overwhelmed it. He fumbled around with a desperate hand for the duvet but flinched when his hand found warm skin instead. He rolled over and looked at the body beside him, cocooned in stolen blankets. He wanted to bitch and gripe about the injustice of it all and steal his covers back, but then he saw the blonde hair peeping out from the soft, wrinkled folds, and heard the hushed noises of Arthur in his sleep, and he ended up just nudging him gently with a trembling foot. 

“Merlin,” a scratchy voice whined. 

“You stole the covers again,” Merlin whined back, continuing to nudge him.

“Sorry,” Arthur apologised, though without much sincerity. He didn’t even show signs of stirring to share the blankets.

“ _Arthur!_ ” Merlin’s voice was even whinier this time, when he inched over to Arthur’s side of the bed—the left side—and pulled at the covers that were firmly wedged beneath him. “Move, you prat!” Arthur let out a frustrated grunt and finally rolled over. But before Merlin could grab the covers, he quickly jerked them over the entirety of Merlin’s bare body, lanky and quivering like a reed, and scooped him up. Merlin’s muffled protestations were soon hushed when Arthur pressed Merlin against his chest.

Merlin was quite disoriented for that brief moment of pulling and tangling of limbs, until he was comfortably situated under the covers and inside Arthur’s strong arms. He wasn’t just sharing the covers, but his warmth as well. And the heat of his smooth, strong body was now warming Merlin’s own cold, chapped skin. Merlin wrapped his long legs around Arthur and pressed his frozen, callused feet against the back of Arthur’s legs. Perhaps he’d forgive him this time. 

“You’re so cold, baby,” Arthur whispered into Merlin’s dishevelled hair, pressing his lips and nose into it. Merlin would’ve kicked him hard in the shin, because _obviously, he was to blame_ , had it not been for that bloody term of endearment and the feeling of Arthur kissing his head and holding him. So instead of kicking him, Merlin found himself practically melting into the blissful warmth of it all. God, he’d fallen deep. 

And then he remembered where Arthur had first learned the affectionate word. Yesterday, they’d gone on their routine trip to the supermarket, and after finally rounding up everything that they needed, which had been quite a hassle (Arthur was still so new and naive to everything, like a child rediscovering the world, constantly asking and pestering and managing to fuck shit up no matter what the occasion), they went to purchase their things. The couple in front of them was having a little domestic over buying an off-brand of spinach or something trivial when the man finally resigned with an ‘I’m sorry, okay baby?’ and that was that. Arthur had been ever-observant the entire time and seemed to express a lot interest in the fact that the man had uttered only one, tiny phrase to smooth things over so quickly. And then Arthur wanted to know why he’d called her ‘baby’ when she was obviously not an infant or even close to that stage of development.

And of course, Merlin had to explain to him that there are a lot of words people use now, like _baby_ or _honey_ or _love_ , as a sort of nickname or term of endearment for their partner. Despite the annoyance of having to constantly explain things, Merlin was always very patient and thorough and even tender with Arthur, because he certainly couldn’t help it and Merlin wouldn’t have it any other way. This was what he’d been waiting for all these years, after all. Well, maybe not _this_ , but _Arthur_ in the very least. And he’d take him no matter how much of a total clotpole or prat he was. 

Merlin looked up at Arthur, who was smiling at him in a rather self-satisfied way. He let out an unimpressed huff because Arthur seemed a little too proud of himself, and Merlin refused to indulge him. But well, he did any way, whether directly or indirectly, because he was his _baby_ now (Christ, help him), and he eventually pressed his face back into the warmth of Arthur’s chest. It smelled really lovely too, still vaguely reminiscent of Camelot, and he snuggled closer, desperately so, clinging tightly to the man like if he let go the world would break. He could feel the soft bulge of Arthur’s cock against his, ever so intimate and simply **_there_**. They were both completely naked underneath the covers, feeling every pulse and throb of one another’s body as they inhaled and exhaled in rhythm, still but for their heavy breaths.

They never quite fell back asleep, because they were already awake, but still stuck in that lazy limbo of Sunday morning blues. And then suddenly the morning sun was dampened by darkened clouds, and the fond pitter-patter of rain sounded against the windowpane, making Merlin feel instantly nostalgic and even more heavy-limbed. He loved the rain on days like this, when he could just lie in bed all day without any disturbance. He had liked it before Arthur’s return, even though there was also something very lonesome and melancholy about it. But now that he had Arthur, doing nothing but nap and watch old films and listen to the rain’s soporific tune was even sweeter. 

Arthur stretched, feeling the lovely scrub of Merlin’s hairy legs against his as he bent them and popped his knee bones. He yawned a few times, never quite overcoming that sleepy, just-woken-up feeling. Merlin moved against him and aired out the duvet, feeling a bit too warm from the suffocating entanglement they’d made of one another.

“I guess I’ll put the kettle on,” he announced, plying himself from Arthur’s arms and hopping out of bed.

“Don’t be gone too long,” Arthur called. He watched Merlin leave the room through heavy-lidded eyes, Merlin’s small, pert butt cheeks moving up and down as he wandered out the open door and into the kitchen. He’d come to love everything about Merlin, including his propensity for walking around naked.

Arthur got out of bed and decided to brush his teeth and wash his face by himself. He didn’t want to trouble Merlin with it today, and he could manage it, right? Just a bit of the white pasty stuff on the tiny brusher-thing and then scrub, scrub, swish, swish, spit, spit. Well, that’s what he told himself anyway, but somehow still managing to ruin the whole sink with toothpaste and spit in the end. He even got the foul-tasting stuff in his hair, and had to spend about five minutes trying to rinse it out. Just as the kettle started screaming and he could hear Merlin shuffling cups and plates in the kitchen, Arthur finished and jumped back into bed right before Merlin returned with tea and toast.

“Hi,” Arthur beamed innocently, fluttering his eyelashes.

“What?” Merlin said suspiciously, eyeing him and wondering what he’d done this time. He sat the tray down on the side table and got back under the covers. 

“Nothing.” Merlin gave him another suspicious look, waiting. “Here, I’ll show you.” Merlin’s eyes went wide when Arthur leaned over him and pinned his arms to the bed. 

“Wha—” Merlin mumbled, cut off by Arthur’s lips on his, and then his tongue, sliding into his mouth. Arthur tasted minty and sweet, shockingly so, just like toothpaste. Merlin quickly submitted despite his surprise and kissed him back, pulling Arthur close so that their bodies fit snugly against one another. 

Merlin hadn’t brushed yet, but Arthur wasn’t complaining. Even though he could feel the grit on the surface of Merlin’s teeth when he ran his tongue over them, his taste buds were still numbed by the menthol. And then there was Merlin, his finger’s tracing delicate circles on his back and mewling like a kitten into his mouth. Arthur finally pulled away, but not without giving Merlin a few more quick smooches on the lips and forehead. “Impressed?”

“Hmmm,” Merlin could only reply thoughtfully, blushing at the tips of his ears. Arthur rolled off of him but didn’t avert his eyes from Merlin, and kept on with his proud beaming until Merlin finally shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. “Eat your breakfast,” he quipped. He had to look after Arthur’s stomach, too. It reminded him of his days as Arthur’s servant, so long ago. 

“Spicy kitty,” Arthur mumbled, raising his brows while munching away at his buttered toast. He looked over at Merlin, who was just sitting there, still blushing from his kiss and silently wishing he’d brushed his teeth while sipping his tea and listening to the rain. _All ears and dimples, milky skin and pretty, dark lashes,_ Arthur thought. Merlin caught Arthur looking at him and returned his gaze, smiling. Merlin’s eyes were always so reverent and pensive when they looked at Arthur, sometimes scarcely believing that he was there at all. 

~*~

In the beginning, those gazes were constant and practically unending, because Merlin was so hopeful and happy and, at the same time, utterly terrified when Arthur had finally come back, worried that he would somehow slip through his fingers again. He was so alone before, and it was a long and lonely story—the one of Arthur’s absence—that spanned over 1500 years. 

He remembered the day that Arthur had finally come back. It was the same day that Merlin had decided to end his own life. He was just so tired of waiting, and all the magic in the world was gone. No dragons or other sorcerers existed. The only magic to be found was in works of fiction, the mere stuff of legends, because no one believed in it any more. Merlin was forced to live his life in secrecy for many centuries, passing through towns and changing his appearance to keep a low profile. Taking whatever odd-end job he could find. Still, he would go back each year to the lake of Avalon and wait to see if Arthur would rise again, to return to him. But he never did, and eventually Merlin quit going. He was so hopeless and alone and just tired, so one day he went back to the lake, not for Arthur, but to retrieve Excalibur, and kill himself with it. 

But just as he looked to the blade in weary resolution, his clothes soaked through and tears staining his face, something stirred in the distant waters. A bubbling sound, and yet resonating with a thousand tiny, little noises that could only be life itself. And he knew then that it was Arthur. It had to be. Merlin’s heart thumped hard in his chest as it reawakened like a bright blazing star burning with hope, and he could barely breathe when he ran back into the frigid waters, pulling his king from the dark depths and onto the grassy bank. Arthur was completely naked like an infant fresh from the womb, and yet still looked exactly like the man he’d sent to a watery grave so many centuries ago. 

A lot had happened since that day. Merlin often questioned why Arthur had come back. Whether or not it meant something big was going to happen that only Arthur could prevent or set into motion, which gave him a sense of foreboding and apprehension. But then he realised that it was him, not Arthur. _**He ******_couldn’t die, because he was the last sorcerer to walk the earth, the only magic left, so perhaps the gods thought that only Arthur could save him from himself.

~*~

“Merlin, what's wrong?” Arthur asked, even though he knew that Merlin was probably just thinking about him. Arthur was slowly coming to understand how much Merlin had suffered, and now he just wanted to make Merlin happy and never feel alone again. But he also knew that that was impossible, because he couldn’t live forever.

Merlin sat his cup down and looked over at Arthur, tears pricking his eyes. He didn’t want today to be another bad day, where he cried non-stop and either clung to Arthur desperately or shut him out completely. _No, it couldn’t be another one of those days._ But even as he told himself that, Arthur went to cradle him before he could say otherwise, and kissed his cheek and called him his baby, and Merlin cried anyway. 

But it got better as the morning broke into afternoon and the rain kept on ever constantly, a lovely, deep thrum of noise enveloping them, and Arthur coaxed Merlin out of his depression. First he made him read the paper, and then they watched an old film that Merlin had to pause constantly so that he could explain every little thing that Arthur didn’t understand. But it helped Merlin somehow, because it was difficult to be sad when Arthur was so eager and filled with wonder and seemed in that moment like a golden ray of light wrapped in the bed sheets, and he made Merlin want to be tender with him. 

And then half-way through, the film was forgotten when Merlin’s sarcastic remarks and gentle banter turned into Arthur wanting to play and touch and kiss for repartee instead. They made out for a while, kissing and sucking lips and neck until their faces were practically swollen. And then Arthur’s tongue was exploring Merlin’s body, all the soft and hard parts, taking his pleasure in nipples, knobs, ears, and lips. And of course there were his most sensitive parts: the bright, cherry rim, soft sack, and hard little prick. Well, it wasn’t _little_ ; it was actually a bit larger than his, but he felt so fond of it, and even as he took it in his mouth, he felt somehow like he was loving and coddling it. After a while of being sucked off, Merlin was rutting up into Arthur’s mouth, moaning, and reaching under his own back to finger himself.

When Merlin was ready for him, lanky legs spread wide, Arthur fucked him slowly into the mattress. The television dialogue in the background covered up their sex noises for the most part, until the film ended and for a moment all they could hear was the sound of the bed creaking in tune with their grunts and Arthur’s balls slapping obscenely against Merlin’s butt. Arthur looked down at Merlin, eyes wide with shock at how loud it was, and Merlin broke out into laughter despite his panting. Arthur couldn’t keep a straight face either and collapsed on top of Merlin, still buried deep inside him but no longer moving. Their chests heaved against one another as they let out breathy laughs. 

“Sorry. Sorry,” Merlin huffed out when Arthur slipped out of him and rolled off, breathing hard. Arthur didn’t say anything and just pouted, looking at his erect cock, neglected. “Don’t be like that,” Merlin teased. He rolled onto his side so that his face was right next to Arthur’s and he could crane his neck to peck Arthur’s cheek sweetly. Arthur was still rather sulky though, until Merlin crawled on top of him like a cat. He started nipping at Arthur’s neck and humping his leg until Arthur finally submitted and flipped Merlin over—gently—and started fucking him again. Merlin hugged his back and forced him down onto him so that their bodies were pressed together properly. Arthur couldn’t put quite as much power behind his thrusts this way, but it was ok because Merlin grabbed onto his butt cheeks and urged him to roll his hips more instead, moaning and crying the whole time. The position also allowed for more kissing, and Arthur was able to rest his head on the crook between Merlin’s left shoulder and neck while he rolled and slid and moaned. It felt perfect, just the sound of rain and Merlin breathing his name and saying _oh_ over and over, yet in a thousand variations. And then there was the feeling of Merlin, warm and comfortable, yet tightly clenched around him, and he could even feel Merlin’s hardness dragging under the pressure of his belly, leaking a cool, slight wetness between them. 

Eventually they bottomed out when Arthur started rutting in his desperate, teetering climb and hit Merlin’s special spot, what Merlin called his ‘prostate’ (though Arthur thought ‘special spot’ sounded nicer), and climaxed with him. 

Afterwards they just lay there, with Arthur on his back and Merlin on his belly but propped up by an arm. That way, he could look down at Arthur and thread a hand through his golden hair and caress his face, which was still flushed with post-coital bliss. They sat there for a while just like that, until the rain had abated and the sun set and their bellies started growling irritably. 

“What do you want to eat?” Merlin asked Arthur as he reached for the phone; definitely delivery tonight. He’d forgotten how long it’d been since they’d eaten. The days just seemed to fly by now.

“I don’t know, whatever you want, baby.” _Ugh, that word again_ , Merlin could only think as he blushed and flipped through the phone book pages. There was still a warm feeling in his belly despite his hunger. 

“OK, umm, how’s pizza?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Merlin ordered the usual large pepperoni, all the while antagonised by Arthur grabbing his ass and giving it a few squeezes just to distract him. 

“Bony butt,” Arthur commented a bit too loudly, so that the pizza guy at the receiver end could hear him. Merlin just kicked his leg in admonishment and stammered out the address. 

“It should be here in about 15 minutes,” Merlin said, hanging up the phone. “Which gives us enough time to take a shower.”

“Ugh, can’t we take a bath instead?” Arthur whined when Merlin managed to drag him out of bed and into the bathroom. “I hate this thing,” he complained, poking the shower head resentfully. 

“But it’s quicker.” Merlin wasn’t budging today, even though he usually gave in. Arthur pouted when Merlin shoved him under the spray of steaming water and got in with him. But he eventually came around, when Merlin lathered him up and scrubbed his back and let him kiss him even though they were wasting hot water. 

Just as they were drying off, the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” Arthur called, running for the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Wait, you don’t even have the money to pay them with!” Merlin cried, reaching for his wallet on the table and running after him. But it was too late because Arthur had already opened the door and surprised the poor delivery guy that turned out to be a delivery girl with his soaked, half-naked body. 

“I am so sorry,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur gently to the side and fumbling with his wallet. Arthur took the pizza box out of the girl’s hands and she just stood there with a blank expression and wide eyes glued to Arthur’s chest. Merlin watched them follow a glistening bead of water as it descended down Arthur’s abdomen. Merlin had to wave the money in her face for quite a while before she finally looked away. He’d included a generous tip, although now he was beginning to regret it.

“Oh, thank you,” she said in a small voice, looking from Merlin to Arthur in sudden realisation. She still seemed rather shocked when Merlin slammed the door shut in front her face with an annoyed _humph_.

“What did I tell you about answering the door?”

“That I shouldn’t,” Arthur noted indifferently, opening the box and ignoring Merlin’s exasperated groan. This time he shoved the food in Merlin’s mouth. And Merlin didn’t complain any more because he was starving, and that was probably the main source of his petulance. “I’ve got to hand it to you Merlin, this pizza is pretty good,” Arthur said in the midst of his second slice, gooey cheese stretching from his mouth and grease dripping onto his face. He still hadn’t perfected eating 21st century food without soiling his clothes or making a complete mess of himself. Merlin handed him a napkin with an amused smile. A few months ago, Merlin would’ve been wiping his face for him. 

“Oh? Is it better than pickled eggs?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that. Maybe. By the way, you need to make me some of those.”

“I need to? I’m not your servant any more, Arthur.”

“But you said you’d be happy to be my servant, till the day you die,” Arthur remarked in half question, his voice as sweet as honey and yet as dry and sarcastic as ever. It made Merlin feel nauseous all of a sudden. 

Merlin looked down for a moment, feeling sad as he recalled the memory. But then he put on a wistful smile and whispered, “It’s true, I did say that.” His voice cracked despite his efforts to remain calm, and he nearly gagged when he swallowed his last bite of pizza. He had to drink an entire glass of water before the food finally went down, along with his darkened thoughts.

~*~

Arthur had noticed the darkness that had fallen over Merlin, and when he went to peer out the window, Arthur saw his face change. It looked like an old man’s, with wrinkles and old dried skin, like leather. The rest of his body was still smooth and young-looking though, and Arthur knew that it was just his magic going haywire. Merlin didn’t like to be around Arthur when he was like this because he sometimes lost control of his magic and he didn’t want to hurt Arthur. But Arthur went over to him anyway and hugged him from behind. He pressed his fingertips into Merlin’s sides and kissed the back of his neck until the weary warlock turned around and looked at him. As soon as their eyes met, the wrinkles dissipated, but Merlin’s eyes still had that old, tired look to them. But they were like that most of the time; it just came with living so long and knowing so much, Arthur guessed. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. Arthur curled his strong arms around Merlin, running a hand down his back and swaying a bit as Merlin sighed shakily into his shoulder. He pulled gently at the towel wrapped around Merlin’s waist until it fell to the floor, and he lifted Merlin up into his arms. Merlin had managed to gain a little weight since Arthur’s return, but it was hard to make up for all the years of self-neglect, so he was rather easy to carry. Arthur laid him down on the bed and for a moment Merlin was afraid he was going to leave, so he caught hold of his arm, a spark of magic trilling through it. “Come to bed,” he pleaded in a little voice. Arthur’s face softened because he’d never intended to do otherwise, but he didn’t say so. He just did as Merlin asked. 

When Arthur was finally lying down beside him, Merlin rolled over to face him; he felt so weak but wanting just the same. Merlin still had a sad, placid expression on his face when he leaned over Arthur, ghosting a hand over his chest. Merlin’s fingertips brushed ever so lightly across his skin, magic still lingering in his touch. It gave Arthur goose bumps, especially when the cold air hit him afterwards, sending little shivers down his belly and to his groin, where it ended in a flush of heat, making his cock twitch and swell. Merlin saw it and smiled for the first time that night. No matter how many times they’d touched, it always made his belly flutter and his heart ache when he saw the want tangible in Arthur’s flesh.

Wanting him. 

“What do you want?” he breathed softly into Arthur’s ear, like he was afraid someone might hear him. They spoke like that a lot, especially at night, in hushed tones so that even the walls could not catch their whispered secrets, and when Arthur said that he just wanted to make **_him_** feel good in a soft whisper and slid a warm hand down his belly to his cock, it made his body tremble. 

Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way he touched him, or maybe it was just because it was Arthur. His big blue eyes were the same ones that had sparkled so brightly right before he had died in his arms. But now they were so alive again, and it was like they only sparkled for him. He had to fight back tears for a moment, because it wasn’t fair that a single life could be so precious and yet so fleeting. 

Arthur brushed a tear from Merlin’s cheek, a little confused but not that surprised. Merlin cried so frequently, and he hated it because it broke his heart to see him like that, but he also understood. Even though he’d once told him that no man was worth his tears, Merlin was always proving him wrong. 

“It’s all right, baby,” he murmured, kissing and touching Merlin until he came with a soft whimper, not even straying a hand to tend to himself.  
Arthur got out of bed to rinse his hands and Merlin tried to dry his face off and collect himself. The rain had started back again and he was glad; for some reason the rain made the world seem more intimate and closed off, like it was only theirs. Maybe it was… just for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ermmmm, I guess this chapter is an epilogue of sorts.... I just wanted to continue their story because I liked the whole idea behind Baby. This is set like 2-3 months after where the other chapter left off and there's a lot of new information added, including an original character, so I hope no one gets too confused. A little bonus art at the end as well. Cheers.

Merlin would often close the shop for the day simply because he didn’t feel like leaving the flat, even though the shop was right below it. The space was quiet and cosy, tucked away in a backstreet of central London. He had first rented it out several decades ago to sell herbal medicine, but the main reason he kept it was to attract people—people with chronic illnesses or incurable diseases that would visit his shop in hopes of finding some kind of magical herb to help cure them. Little did they know that the owner of that shop was actually a wizard with healing powers and potions! 

No one really _actually_ believed in magic though, so Merlin still had to conceal his magical powers. Not because he feared execution, but because it would cause such chaos and confusion in the present world that he’d much rather not get mixed up in. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to put his powers to good use while he still could. But he had to help people in such a way that they would never discover his true identity. Sometimes he had to even use a spell to make them lose their memory. But for most of the people who visited his shop and complained of their afflictions, he used a different and far more ethical method. After listening to their story he would casually mention that he knew a healer. He’d say it half-jokingly, because most people didn’t believe in such things; thought it was new-age nonsense. Though sometimes there was a hint of fascination or even hope shaking in their feeble voices when they inquired upon his name or number. Then Merlin would say that this particular man only made house calls, and then he’d ask for them to leave an address if they were interested in a consultation. Some of them would even agree to it, and then on the weekends he’d use a bit of sorcery to change into his old man disguise and journey out to their homes. The aging spell was effortless now; he didn’t even need a potion to do it. But sometimes it still drained him… a lot of things did that now… 

“Meeerlin,” the familiar voice sang, breaking him from his quiet reflections. He looked up and saw Arthur walking down the stairs in a faded t-shirt and jeans. Ah yes, Arthur, his king, his bright shining star, his old friend and new lover, who had finally returned to him after over a thousand years. Years of waiting that had been filled with constant despair, depression, and desperation, punctuated only by a brief moments of happiness. But now there was Arthur. The sight of him in his old, borrowed clothes made Merlin’s heart skip a beat. Of course it was probably just Arthur—he did that to him even now, and would probably continue to do so forever and always. 

Merlin hadn’t been able to buy many new clothes for him, but it didn’t matter because he wore his so big and Arthur could fit into most of them. “Any customers so far?” Arthur asked with a small smile as he twined his arms around Merlin, who straightened up and swayed into them as the low notes of a guitar echoed through the speaker of his old radio. He kept it playing on the corner shelf to keep him company, especially on slow days like this. 

“Just a few,” He replied, twisting around in Arthur’s grasp so that he was facing him.

“We could always close the shop and go back upstairs.” Arthur suggested, raising his eyebrows with a toothy grin. His warm hands crept up beneath Merlin’s shirt, giving him goose bumps. Just as Merlin began to consider Arthur’s proposal and tilted his head down for a kiss, the bell dinged as the shop door creaked open. He gave Arthur a quick peck before twisting out of his grasp. He thought it was rude to be intimate when other people could see. 

“Hello boys!” The cheerful voice greeted them. Merlin let out a sigh when he turned around and saw the familiar face. It was only Dorothy from next door. She had lived in the same flat for nearly her entire life, and Merlin could remember the first day they’d met, when she moved in with her mother as a young girl. Now she was almost 78 years old. She was also the only one besides Arthur who knew about his magic. There had been others throughout the centuries, but no one else still alive. 

Most people in the neighbourhood thought Dorothy was just a crazy old cat lady, but they hadn’t known her when she was eighteen and lost her first love, or twenty-two when her mother died in a car accident, or thirty-five when she published her first novel, or fifty when she was diagnosed with cancer. Merlin had though. He’d even cured her once but the cancer came back several years later. It was such a strange disease, unlike any other Merlin had encountered. He’d once tried to study the nature of its progression, but it was past his medical knowledge. Science was so advanced now. And the only magic book he had, the one Gaius had given him so many centuries ago, was scarcely even readable. The words were faded now, pages tattered and binding turned to dust. He’d have to record all of the spells and potions he knew into another book before they disappeared from his memory. Still, the knowledge of cancer was so new that Merlin doubted the ancient texts contained anything of relevance.

“Do you have my medicine?” She asked, hobbling over to the old wooden chair by the window. Her stiff bones popped and cracked when she sat down with a huff. She was squat and hunched over now, not at all like the pretty girl she was so long ago, and her eyes rarely glittered with that youthful liveliness Merlin once knew.

“Of course.” He bent down and retrieved the vial of green liquid from his desk. “Lock the door and turn off the lights, would you,” he said in a quiet voice to Arthur, who went right to it without any dispute.

Merlin watched as the dusty shop darkened and an excited grin drew across Dorothy's wrinkled face, her dull eyes set alight. She loved it when Merlin did magic, because it was so very exclusive—their secret—and he really was the only thing that brought her happiness any more. 

Arthur waited by the door for Merlin to speak the incantation, peering through the window nervously. “ _Ðú þurhhælest þisne þone!_ ” his deep voice whispered lyrically, to Arthur almost like a song, and he watched in wonder as the liquid barely rippled with the movement of Merlin’s passing hand. A ring of smoke puffed up from it and diffused into the air. 

Merlin twisted the top back on and handed it to Dorothy. “Thank you, Merlin,” Dorothy said. Arthur gave Merlin’s shoulder a light squeeze before helping the old woman out of her seat. “Such a gentlemen,” she cooed sweetly in her withering voice, blushing despite her age. She remembered all of the stories Merlin had told her as young girl about Camelot and his adventures with Arthur. Seeing him in the flesh always left her rather speechless, like he was a fictional character that had come to life. It had been at least five months since Merlin told her the big news and introduced her to Arthur, though it all still felt utterly surreal. And even as she looked at the pair of them now her heart sank with a sad, overwhelming fondness. 

“Well, I better be off then.”

“You don’t want to come up for tea?” Merlin asked, offering her his cheek for a kiss and then returning the parting gesture. 

“No dear, not today,” she promptly declined and started for the door. Arthur opened it for her as she walked out. “I have writing to do!” 

“Oh, you’ve started writing again?” Merlin asked as he followed her out of the shop and into the street. She hadn’t written for years, not since the cancer came back. Still, sometimes when he visited her flat to help feed the cats or check in on her, he’d hear the fond clacking of her old typewriter (she detested technology and swore to never use a computer). But whenever he looked into her bedroom, she’d hide it and feign ignorance, as though she hadn’t been working at all. 

“Yes, it seems that I’ve found just the inspiration I needed,” she replied with a wide smile, looking at the two men rather cunningly. Arthur snaked an arm around Merlin’s tiny waist and waved as Dorothy walked off. Merlin just scoffed and went back into the shop. 

The day went by painfully slow, with few customers to punctuate the long hours of boredom. Arthur was there to offer him some distraction, but Merlin was still glad when the clock finally struck five and he could close the shop knowing he’d tried his best. And there was another reason why he smiled so secretively while locking the door and taking hold of Arthur’s hand, then dragging him up the stairs and into their flat. He’d promised to take Arthur to the cinema—he’d never been. Merlin was wary of it at first but figured there couldn’t be much harm in it. Plus he liked taking Arthur out, showing him off and seeing the world through his eyes. Arthur already liked watching television quite a lot, so Merlin was certain that he’d love the cinema.

~*~

“Would you stay still for a minute,” Merlin chided as he tried to shave the last patch of stubble off of Arthur’s jaw. He was trying to get them both ready for their date, but Arthur wasn’t exactly cooperating. He sat on the toilet seat while Merlin groomed him. They were both naked and still quite damp from their shower.

“Well maybe if you weren’t moving at the speed of a melting ice glacier…” 

“Oh, and what do you know about glaciers?” Merlin asked, unable to hide his cheeky smile. There were never any ice glaciers in Camelot. 

“Far too much, considering that I watched an hour-long documentary on them yesterday and—OWE!” he yelped suddenly as the razor scraped against his cheek. Merlin hissed as he watched bright-red blood bubble and drip from the opening. There was a sense of panic that struck suddenly inside his heart despite how minor the cut was… just because it was Arthur and to Merlin, his life was so very fragile. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He took a cloth and dabbed at Arthur’s cheek carefully. “That’s why I was going so slowly; I didn’t want to nick you.” 

“Well you’ve done quite a fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” Arthur snapped sarcastically, but not without clutching Merlin’s hand against his cheek and pouting. He still wanted coddling, after all. 

Merlin’s eyes softened and then flickered gold as he whispered a “ _þurhhæle þin lícsár_ ”, putting his long fingers to the bloodied cut. “There, all better,” he said after giving the tender spot a kiss. “See? Magic.” He moved to the side so Arthur could review his work in the bathroom mirror. The scratch had vanished completely. Arthur looked at his reflection and started posing, the spitting image of Narcissism himself, and Merlin just groaned out in disgust.

“Sure it wasn’t those lips of yours?” Arthur asked while rubbing aftershave onto his cheeks. 

“Hmmm, maybe,” Merlin pondered, pretending to consider the idea, before dodging Arthur’s mouth when he went in for a kiss. “A-a-ahhh,” he chirped in defiance, putting a finger to Arthur’s puckered lips. “No kisses for you. We have to get ready or we’ll miss the film!” He gave Arthur’s cock a playful squeeze before darting out of the bathroom, just to further incense him.

Once they finally managed to get dressed, though not without their fair share of bickering—it was all harmless banter, really—they left the flat and started towards the square. They had decided to take the more scenic route, which passed through a small park filled with cherry trees, which Merlin was very fond of. It was late April, so they were in full-bloom now. The white blossoms with a blush of pink were like clouds of cotton candy in their flowering masses. 

Yes, it was perfect. The weather was still a bit chilly though, especially during the evenings when the temperature dropped and cold, shivering breezes liked to lick naked skin. It certainly required warmer clothing. Merlin had bought Arthur a navy blue sweater vest and khakis just for the occasion. He’d even purchased a purple sweater for himself—Arthur had once said he liked him in purple. Arthur had even commented on how dashing they looked, which was odd, considering that he usually only expressed disdain for modern clothing. Perhaps he was coming around. Either way, Merlin had to confess that they did look rather nice together—the pair of them out strolling the streets of London in their new outfits. 

They didn’t hold hands, although sometimes their fingers brushed against one another, making Merlin blush. He was surprisingly awkward when it came to being intimate in public. He’d been around during the 16th century, when Henry VIII reigned and men would’ve been hung for showing affection towards another man.... called it “sodomy”... something to do with Christianity. And really, homosexuality had only been recently accepted. Of course, he’d never really had to worry about it, being such a lonely and solitary individual. His constant concern throughout the centuries had been to conceal his identity and his powers. Oh, and then there was his age. A man over 1,500—what was the precise number again? He’d long since forgotten—years old might be more than a little suspicious to the authorities. Recently, it had been more of a struggle, with the advent of computers and digitalised records and insurance numbers, though he’d always managed. 

But now it was different; there was Arthur and he’d become his everything again. He didn’t worry about those frivolous matters anymore. He was far too busy fretting over his precious dollop-head. 

“There it is,” He whispered wistfully into Arthur’s ear, pointing to the building up ahead. It was going to be torn down a few years ago, when someone decided to restore it for classic film showings. It even had the old marquee sign up, reading the name of the film they’d see: _**The Wizard of Oz**_. Merlin remembered seeing it for the first time in this very cinema, amazed and wonder-struck that humans could capture moving images like that and then somehow project it onto a screen for millions to see. It was almost like magic. He could see it in art and science like a faint spark, almost… almost… desperately reaching for what he alone possessed. 

“Two please,” Merlin said to the ticket booth master. While he was handing him the money, a young couple passed by and Arthur watched them walk away, hand in hand. He wondered why Merlin never liked to do stuff like that. It seemed… nice. Merlin was never one to show affection in public though, he was embarrassed by it. But once Merlin had their tickets, Arthur made a brave grab at his hand and pulled him towards the door. “What are you doing?” Merlin asked, jerking his hand away. 

“Would you just shut up, Merlin?!” he shouted before reclaiming the cold hand with an exasperated huff. “Can’t you see I’m trying to be romantic?” _He was so damn stubborn sometimes._

“I just… you know what I said about this… in front of other people…” 

Merlin stood there by the door, his hand still in Arthur’s tight grasp. He appreciated the notion, he really did, but at the same time it made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. And then there was an elderly couple passing by them now. Merlin felt his cheeks suddenly flush with shame. 

“Honestly, you worry too much,” Arthur said with a devious grin, and just when Merlin thought things couldn’t get any worse, the prat had the nerve to kiss him. Kiss him! Right then and there, and on the lips! 

Merlin clutched onto Arthur’s shirt, at first only wanting to push him away, trembling slightly, his face and body hot despite the cool breeze drifting by. One of Arthur’s hands still held onto his, while the other drew slowly up his side, thumb resting in a crook between two of his ribs. Arthur could feel them through Merlin’s sweater, jutting out, anxiously heaving. 

Merlin couldn’t see the elderly couple when they stared at them in shock, or hear them their audible sounds of disgust. He didn’t need to; he knew full and well what they were thinking. He had lived before their time and during. He knew that they thought it was immoral and unnatural. But they didn’t understand true love—not really. And this, _this_ was a love stronger than they could ever know, and that’s what frustrated him, that he was brimming with all of this painful love and devotion that no one could ever fully comprehend. Not even Arthur… but Arthur… stupid Arthur with his heart on his sleeve and arms around him now and lips a pressing though tender weight… it was almost like they were alone because the action was so familiar and comforting.

Merlin’s heart was throbbing now, and it plummeted like a bird shot in flight when he thought Arthur was about to draw away. But then he simply inhaled and exhaled into Merlin’s mouth, kissing him more deeply. It was scary and thrilling and somehow wonderful, and Merlin was just about to surrender himself to Arthur’s lips when they pulled away from his. 

“Arthur…” he started in a small murmur, dazed and quaking with defeated frustration, when a sound suddenly interrupted them. 

“Fuckin’ disgustin’ innit?” the voice called obnoxiously behind them. Merlin looked for its source: a teenage boy, followed by several others that looked like carbon copies of their leader. They all wearing baggy tracksuits and caps and had this obnoxious, self-entitled way about them. Merlin had encountered their like before, and he wasn’t particularly fond of them, to say the least. 

“Yeah, bloody poofters,” one of them replied with a derisive snort. Arthur had never crossed paths with chavs before, and Merlin knew that he wouldn’t react favourably to them. He went to confront them and Merlin grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Stop it, Arthur. Just ignore them.”

“What the hell is their problem?” he asked, already fuming. 

“They don’t mean anything by it. They’re just a bunch of stupid kids,” he whispered, though not quietly enough, because as soon as the words left his mouth, the leader stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.

“Oi, ya wanna go, queer?” he shouted, raising his clenched fists. Merlin backed away slowly; he didn’t want any trouble, but the boy came at him anyway and gave him a shove. 

Before Merlin could even react, Arthur had the boy pinned against the wall, his face mad with something Merlin had never seen before. 

“Arthur,” Merlin pleaded in a broken voice. He saw one of the boys flash a flick knife in the corner of his eye. “Please.” Arthur looked at him, at first confused, but then the anger slowly subsided from his face. He let go the boy, who sagged to the ground in a trembling heap. He sat there for a while, looking up at Arthur and frozen with fear, until he finally stood up shakily and ran after his friends. Merlin watched them vanish down the street and let out a weary sigh of relief. “Arthur, you shouldn’t have done that. You could’ve gotten hurt.” 

“Merlin, I can assure you that they posed no threat,” he said in a condescending tone. He really had no idea. But his voice grew softer when he saw Merlin, shaking still. “You need to stop worrying about me.”

“But I can’t. If something were to happen to you…” Merlin looked at him, his brows furrowed and face contorted into a pained expression. Lives were such fragile things. He hated it.

Arthur understood how he felt, having held Merlin so many times while he cried over him. “I know. But I can’t very well just stand by and watch someone treat you like that, either. I have to protect you too.” Arthur gripped Merlin’s bony shoulders and stared at him intently. “Why would you let someone treat you like that … when you’re… well you know… _you_.” 

“I can’t just use my _magic_ every time someone’s rude to me,” he whispered, looking around nervously. “I’ve learned over time it’s easier to just ignore people.”

“What happened to that plucky little boy I first met?”

“He got old. And tired,” Merlin sighed and smiled weakly. He looked down at his hands. They didn’t look like his hands. They were far too soft and pale and unworked, as though they didn’t know the trials and toils they’d suffered, or the centuries of use that had still failed to carve their stories into them. 

“Still looks the same though.” Arthur traced his hand along Merlin’s smooth cheek and looked as though he was about to kiss him again, but Merlin turned his face away. At first Arthur gave him a strange look, and a wounded expression flitted across his face, until Merlin reached for his hand. It was a timid effort, but a difficult one nonetheless, and Arthur knew that. 

Merlin could hear music playing from inside. The credits were rolling now. He entwined his fingers with Arthur’s, mouth pursed and twisted into something more sincere now, but not quite a smile. 

“It’s starting. Come on.” 

They sat in the very back row, secluded from the other few people that were there. Merlin felt safe with Arthur in the dark of the matinée, and so they whispered to one another and even kissed since no one could really see. But then “Over the Rainbow” started playing, and Merlin made a shushing noise and leaned back onto Arthur’s outstretched arm, sighing nostalgically. Arthur pulled Merlin closer and stole a glance at his face in darkness. He was beautiful. His bowed lips were open just barely and his eyes had a wistful glint to them when the girl started singing, her voice like warm honey.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high_  
 _There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby._  
 _Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue_  
 _And the dreams that you dare to dream,_  
 _Really do come true._

~*~

It was dark and cold when they finally left the cinema, and the stars were glittering like the dust of crushed diamonds in the night sky. They clung onto one another without reservation and breathed into each other’s chilly palms, taking comfort in the the privacy of darkness. Arthur was humming “We’re Off to See the Wizard” with a smile, relishing the irony of it all. He’d been rather amused by the film, how strange and fantastic and ridiculous it all was.

“More like I’m off to bed the wizard….” he muttered and then laughed at his own joke. Merlin just gasped innocently and elbowed him. Not clever at all. But it was true. 

Merlin barely managed to unlock the shop door and walk upstairs to their flat, because Arthur was clinging onto him and kissing his neck the entire time. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” Merlin said when they stumbled into the flat like they were drunk, Arthur laughing breathlessly and still holding onto him. 

“Oh, I’m hungry for something,” he growled into Merlin’s ear before giving it a playful bite. 

The tips of Merlin’s ears were already a dark scarlet by the time Arthur pulled his shirt over his head and started going at his chest and nipples, which were hard like pebbles from being exposed to the cool air of their flat. “No, I mean, I was supposed to take you to dinner…” he said amidst his own stifled grunts. Merlin had wanted to make their date night perfect, and was convinced that filling Arthur’s belly with the finest food he could afford on his meagre salary was a must. Plus he was starving too. But Arthur obviously didn’t mind. He seemed more interesting in fucking than eating. “Maybe I should just order something…”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Arthur said in a frustrated voice, before his stomach betrayed him and let out a noisy growl. But he refused to yield and just mumbled an “after” into the soft skin of Merlin’s neck.

“No. I’m starving, I’ll never last,” he whined, his voice wavering as Arthur nipped at his neck and collarbone. 

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?” Arthur’s hand was trying to unbutton Merlin’s trousers now as he led him into their bedroom. 

When the button finally came free, Arthur stuck a forceful hand into Merlin’s pants and grabbed him. Merlin started to protest but ended up mostly moaning into Arthur’s shoulder before finally pushing him away. “No, that’s not what I meant, you idiot. I’m too cranky for it now.” He went to their bedside table to set down his wallet and keys, trying to ignore how shaky his legs were and the fact that he was very much aroused despite his attempt to dodge Arthur’s advances. _Why did he have to turn to jelly every time Arthur touched him?_ He peered over his shoulder and watched with a feeling of warm affection as Arthur tried to undress himself in vain. But he was feeling so peckish, and he eyed the menu of their favourite Chinese restaurant that was sitting on the table with equal longing. Merlin almost reached for it, but then Arthur had his arms around him and Merlin could feel him naked and pressing hard against him. Somehow, he’d managed to undress himself, which Merlin was forever amused and amazed by. 

“All right, maybe just a little—” Merlin surrendered, turning around and putting his arms around Arthur’s neck, and before he had a chance to change his mind, Arthur lifted him up and then lowered him onto the bed. He pulled off his trousers with a swift jerk, and the motion was so rough and quick that Merlin’s briefs came off with them, his erection bobbing up like an ugly declaration of what he had been trying to suppress. Arthur quirked an accusatory eyebrow at him before crawling onto him with a devilish smile. 

Merlin opened his mouth to speak again as Arthur’s lips crushed against his, shushing him instantly, and whatever words were left swelled to the tip of his tongue and were stolen by Arthur’s own, wet and warm and lovely. His kisses were like bliss, Merlin had to submit that, and they were even better in the privacy of their own bedroom. They were always the same and yet slightly different, _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_ —slow yet fast, gentle yet forceful, his touch like a revelation yet primal and familiar. In that moment Merlin could’ve sworn that Arthur possessed his body with those lips alone, but then again he could scarcely separate Arthur’s mouth from his hand that gripped their two erections together, bringing them both to a near-rhythm before Arthur let go suddenly. Merlin let out a whine when Arthur pulled away from him. 

Merlin had forgotten how weak and hungry he was. But now that he was alone in bed, uncovered and unprotected by Arthur’s warm body, he felt shaky and hypersensitive again. He knew that Arthur was just getting some lube, and he could even see his blurred, naked form standing over the drawer of their bedside table, but he felt empty all the same. Empty like a piece of him had been cut off or wrenched away suddenly. He didn’t even realise that he was whimpering and touching himself until Arthur came back and pulled his limp hand away. “Come back here, I missed you,” he whined, hugging onto Arthur’s back when he finally returned to him, and planted aimless, sloppy-wet kisses all over his face. 

“I thought you weren’t in the mood,” Arthur taunted Merlin as he pulled his arms away and pinned them both to the mattress. His hands were like cuffs around Merlin’s wrists. 

“I was lying,” he confessed while struggling beneath Arthur’s strong grasp. He was too weak though and conceded to wrapping him legs around Arthur so that he could rub himself against him. Arthur lowered himself and moved with him, until it felt so good that Merlin sobbed against Arthur’s neck.

“How is it that a minute ago you were as cool a cat, and now you’re desperate and crying like a baby for me?” he asked in a cruel, delighted voice, and then licked a stripe from the inside of Merlin’s arm, where the skin was white and soft, to the patch of coarse hair on his armpit. Merlin let out a faint cry from the jarring sensation of it.

“It’s all you fault,” he blamed him, struggling again as Arthur tickled him with his tongue. “You know I need you more than anything,” he confessed in a small voice, and with it the playful mood suddenly faded. Arthur expression softened before he freed Merlin’s arms and started trailing his tongue down Merlin’s slender body, until his deft tongue was licking tentatively at his hole. Merlin gasped when he felt it delicate and wet inside him. “You don’t have to do that—I know you just want to fuck me,” Merlin said rather faintly, now unable to repress moans, and lifting his legs up higher anyway. 

“You and your profanity,” Arthur chided with a _tsk_. “Besides, I want to do this.” And then he was there, practically making love to him with his tongue. It twisted deep and gentle inside him, unfurling the tightness of his tender muscle and making him scream. And he did scream, high and frantic, when his tongue suddenly plunged so deep it hurt and a rough growl escaped from Arthur’s throat. Merlin lifted his heavy head and saw Arthur’s arm moving as he palmed himself, getting off purely on the noises Merlin was making. But now all Merlin wanted was to feel Arthur come inside him, and know for that brief moment that Arthur loved him the most and wouldn’t part with him for anything—not even for his past life in Camelot. Not even for Gwen. Merlin didn’t mean to be so clingy and selfish, but he couldn’t help it either. That’s what loving and losing and waiting does to a man. 

“Arthur, please,” Merlin cried, pulling his fingers through Arthur’s blonde hair and wanting him desperately. Arthur rose up on his knees, his erect cock curved up, flushed a dark pink and on full display for Merlin. Or at least that’s how it seemed, given the proud smile stretched across Arthur’s face as he watched Merlin look down at it. Merlin kissed him sweetly and then violently before searching for the bottle of lube that was buried in the folds of the blankets. But Arthur stilled his arm and wouldn’t let their lips part as he caressed his waist and arm with a strong hand. Merlin could feel Arthur’s hard cock rubbing against his hip bone. It was slippery too. Somehow he’d already managed to lube himself up and was now leaving oily tracks on Merlin’s skin. “Here, let me,” he barely managed to grunt out as he tried to make them switch places. Arthur rolled over and waited for Merlin to mount him. 

“You’re too weak,” Arthur said as Merlin trembled above him. It was true, Merlin was so tired and hungry he’d gone shaky. 

“But I want to ride you,” he had meant to say in a sexy voice, but it only came out like a childish whine, pleading and almost despairing. It was enough for Arthur though, who rubbed Merlin’s thighs consolingly as Merlin reached behind him and guided Arthur’s erection to the crack of his butt. Arthur’s pupils were blown wide as he watched Merlin lower himself onto it rather ungracefully because he was trembling so much. Merlin’s breath struggled to a stuttering groan when he felt Arthur fill him completely and then thrust up inside him uncontrollably. It felt like he was running him through. 

“Sorry, you just feel so good,” Arthur apologised, even as he continued to thrust and Merlin started to rock slowly with a pained moan. He could only last for a minute before wilting against Arthur’s chest, too exhausted to continue. Arthur kept on going though, bearing up into Merlin and holding his weary head against his shoulder. Merlin took it bonelessly, whimpering with every upward thrust as it hit all of those sensitive nerves in the most delicious way. And Arthur’s whispers were sweet and almost incoherent, though still managing to turn Merlin’s insides to jelly as he felt Arthur and his voice beneath him, inside him, up, all around him and taking him to the core. Arthur grabbed hold of Merlin’s cock and rubbed it at a frenzied pace, in tune with his quickening thrusts. Merlin twitched and seeped pre-cum into Arthur’s hand as little grunts squeezed out of his throat, feeling the orgasm budding somewhere deep inside him. Arthur was panting in high pitched moans now, and Merlin soon followed suit until Arthur’s sudden, frantic urging made them both come together and all at once. 

Whenever they climaxed, they both remained utterly still but for their violent trembling as their orgasms shuddered through them, and Arthur stayed pressed inside Merlin as deeply as possible, like he was trying to split him open. Merlin would’ve let him willingly though, and his teary eyes sparkled with love and lust and pain as they gazed into Arthur’s own, which were brilliant blue when he finally sighed and his body went limp, utterly numb and content. “Mine,” he whispered possessively into Merlin’s ear before slipping out of him. Merlin didn’t even bother to clean them, and just repositioned himself so that he could curl up beside Arthur’s body, his left leg draped over him and head resting on his chest. He traced patterns on his toned belly and watched it rise and fall slowly. 

“Yours,” Merlin eventually whispered back, but even more quietly, as though it was a secret. He bent down and gave Arthur’s belly a smooch as Arthur combed a lazy hand through his hair. He would be happy to just lie there forever, but then Arthur’s stomach rumbled loudly and he remembered his own hunger. “Hand me the phone,” he said in a raspy, spent voice. “But first can you dial the number on that menu for me?” 

Arthur reached over with a groan to pick up the old phone and then dialled the number and handed it to Merlin, who held it to his ear and twisted the cord around his finger as he spoke. 

“Yes, hello? I’d like to place an order. The sweet and sour chicken. And char siu and crispy duck with fried rice. Oh, and the Chinese broccoli, _and_ six spring rolls! All right, thank you,” Merlin chirped enthusiastically before handing the phone back to Arthur and then laying his head on Arthur’s chest. He had a happy grin on his face now as he thought about all of the greasy food he was about to stuff his face with. 

“We’ll never be able to eat all of that,” Arthur said as he hung the phone up, and then returned to combing his fingers through Merlin’s hair.

“Mmmm, but we can try.” 

“Who's going to pick it up?”

“You are,” Merlin answered and Arthur’s hand froze suddenly. 

“I beg your pardon!?”

“It’ll be ready in 20 minutes. Better get a move on soon,” he said, closing his eyes and smiling dreamily. Usually he didn’t let Arthur go anywhere alone, but the restaurant was only a block down and their street was pretty safe. “Don’t forget my wallet.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right here in bed, waiting for you. You already got your way,” he said, referring back to the sex, “and now I get mine. Besides, I’m too weak to move.” 

“Fine,” Arthur huffed before pushing him away as he crawled out of bed. But after he had peed and dressed himself, he still gave Merlin a goodbye kiss, and Merlin received it warmly. 

“Dollop-head,” he whispered to himself, though long after Arthur had left.

~*~

It happened next Saturday.

Merlin and Arthur had just returned from the station when they found out the news. They’d been on a trip to a small village just outside of Surrey, where they’d gone to visit an old friend of Dorothy’s who needed treatment for her arthritis. As they turned onto the street of their flat, walking hand-in-hand, Merlin froze in his spot when he saw it. An ambulance was parked outside the building of Dorothy’s flat, and her landlord was standing by the door with a grave look on his face. He looked tired as he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped away the perspiration gathering on his forehead. Merlin’s hand slipped out of Arthur’s and his heart fell as he watched the ambulance go, no lights or sirens interrupting the soft air of their quiet street.

“No…” he whispered.

Arthur gave him a concerned look before running up to the landlord. Merlin’s legs were weak when he tried to make his way towards them, their calm voices like slowed murmurs. But he didn’t need to hear what they were saying, because he’d been through this so many times before; the dreaded news, the funeral preparations, the forgotten possessions and empty spaces. So many deaths, and yet somehow, it still hurt each time. 

“She always paid her rent on the first day of the month. I knew something was wrong,” he heard the man say. “I found her slumped over on her desk this morning.”

Merlin pictured the scene, his Dorothy alive and well then suddenly not— _ **dead**_. Just like that. It was almost like a cruel joke, and his head started spinning when he recalled every fleeting memory of her—because that’s all she was now. A mere memory. He had to tell himself that, because trying to deny it would just leave more painful scars later on.

He should’ve spent more time with her, he should’ve gone and visited her yesterday and told her how much she meant to him and maybe told her an old story. But he’d put himself first, these past few months it’d all been about Arthur.

Suddenly, there were warm arms around him, and he came back. He didn’t realise the hot burn of tears running down his cheeks until he felt them cool and damp on Arthur’s shirt. He didn’t notice how hard his blunt fingernails were digging into Arthur’s shoulder blades, either, until Arthur shifted uncomfortably and Merlin let go with a trembling sob. 

Merlin sniffled before turning to the landlord with a sullen expression and asking shakily, “Was there… any pain… do you think?”

The man looked startled at first, though his face softened when he replied “Oh, I think not—she had a peaceful look on her face, when I found her, that is.” 

“She was alone though. I should’ve been there.” Merlin tried to say but his mouth filled with gooey spit and another cry twisted painfully in his chest. The landlord watched in confusion as Arthur held him again and let Merlin sob violently against him, until he was slowly calmed. 

“Actually, now that you mention it, she wasn’t alone,” the man eventually said. “There was a kitten—a tiny black thing, black as night—in her lap. Bloody thing refused to move even when the medics came…” he recalled in a tentative voice. 

“But Dorothy didn’t have any black cats,” Merlin whispered to himself faintly while starting up the steps to the front door. He let himself in, paying no heed to the landlord’s crude voice as he continued to speak.

“Nonsense if you ask me, keeping all of those fleabags like she owned a bloody zoo. I’ll have to call the pound to pick ‘em up. Likely they’ll all have to be put down…” Arthur heard him say before following Merlin into Dorothy’s flat. 

Inside, it was as dirty as ever, with cats running around everywhere, tracking food and litter throughout the flat as they hid from the respected intruders. Arthur accidently stepped on a furry tail and its owner let out a blood-curdling screech before hissing and retreating beneath a sofa.

Arthur found Merlin in Dorothy’s bedroom. He was standing there pale like a ghost in the middle of the room, sullen and silent. Arthur walked over to him before touching his shoulder gently and then leading him to the writing desk in the corner of the room. Her old typewriter sat on it with a single page turned in, blank but for two words typed in the very centre: _THE END_. It wasn’t actually intended to be used, but typed more as a proud declaration of submission and finality. She had finished something important in the last moments of her life, though what precisely Merlin couldn’t tell. But his hand lifted unconsciously when he saw the thick stack of papers sitting on the edge of her desk like a sudden revelation. A manuscript. 

“I shouldn’t,” Merlin said to Arthur when he felt the temptation to read it. He wanted to so badly, but at the same time he was apprehensive because it seemed like such an intrusive thing to do. Dorothy had kept it from him all this time for a reason. 

“Oh, come on then,” Arthur urged Merlin before pushing him down into the chair. He leaned over his shoulder, waiting. 

Merlin looked hesitantly at the title page, and then read aloud shakily, “Merlin and Arthur.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he was filled with confusion. He read through the first few pages, his eyes scanning through each at a furiously quick pace, before setting the manuscript back down and looking at Arthur. 

“Well, what is it?” 

“It’s a book… about us,” Merlin answered slowly, as if he didn’t quite believe it, and then stood up on wobbly legs. Arthur steadied him and offered an arm for support. 

“Aren’t you going to read it?” he asked when Merlin grabbed his arm, leaning against him and taking deep breaths. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said before picking up the manuscript and putting it inside the messenger bag that he used to carry supplies. “But I _am_ going to take it back to our flat and keep it safe for her. I don’t think she’d want anyone else to get their hands on it.” 

Just as Arthur and Merlin were about to leave, a kitten appeared in the hallway and sat down in front them. It was so tiny, and had soft, fuzzy black fur. It squeaked out a cry and Merlin looked at Arthur rather tragically. “Hey there, wittle kitty,” Arthur cooed at it before bending down to pick it up. “Can’t we keep it?” he asked Merlin like a child as he held it. The kitten just wiggled and squeaked in protest. Merlin sniffled and looked at it for a while before taking it from Arthur’s hands. The kitten instantly calmed down and purred when he held it against his chest.

“Hey, why does it like you?” Arthur asked, pouting his lips jealously. Merlin didn’t answer; he just kept rocking the kitten and looking down at it contemplatively. 

“We’ll keep it,” he finally said. He somehow knew that this would happen in the end. “We should at least save one from being impounded.” 

“What’s that mean?”

“When people die or don’t want their pets any more, they usually end up in the pound—it’s a place that keeps them in cages. If they stay there for a long time and no one wants them, they usually get euthanised… they die.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, a bit sadly. “Well I don’t know if I want to keep it now, if it’s only going to be nice to you,” he added, using his sulky voice again, though without any real sincerity. He was just happy that Merlin was distracted and having a rare moment of calm. 

“It’ll warm up to you. You’ll see,” Merlin promised with a soft smile. “Let’s name it Dorothy, if it’s female.”

“And if it’s male?” 

“Then you can name it,” he replied, his tone indifferent. 

“How generous,” Arthur remarked sarcastically, but then he saw how precious Merlin looked with the baby kitten in his arms. There was the little smile on his tear-stained face and it made Arthur smile too, no matter how much he tried to resist it. “Come on, let’s go home,” he said before putting an arm around Merlin. “I can think of nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

 

  
_Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality._  
—Emily Dickinson

  


**Author's Note:**

> The art is also by me :)  
> Please tell me what you think or if there are any errors so that I can fix them.


End file.
